Now I Should Laugh, If I Were Not Dead
by Anne Oying
Summary: Probably the weirdest thing I'll ever write. The  Vitus family pay a visit to a most unusual museum.
1. That's My Family, Not Me

**Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't a bald cult king with epic cowboy boots and the ownership rights to RHPS. *checks again* Nup. Sorry. Also don't own the title. Or the laptop I'm typing this on.**

**I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't stop posting crappy short Rocky fics! Ah well, my muse vomitted this up for me this morning and it's raining outside so... enjoy.**

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><p>"Dad! Come <em>on<em>! They'll be sold out in a minute!"

"Yeah, dad! Shift it!"

Riff Raff smiled endearingly at his two young children and allowed them to drag him towards the ticket booth until his long nose was almost pressed up against the laser-proof glass.

"Yes sir?" enquired the twitchy teen nervously as he realised just who that was standing before him, his breath fogging up the glass a little as two little tykes vibrated with excitement. The teen's anxiety was unfounded, of course, for the fabled _Flaming Furter _was currently on display in a heavily guarded, locked seduction-proof cabinet inside this very museum. Then again, if the rumours were true... The rumours that the _Flaming Furter _on display was a phoney. A decoy. A clever ploy to con the Royals into a false sense of security with the knowledge that the only device able to kill them (a device capable of emitting a beam of pure anti-matter – a device that would slice through this flimsy plastic cage in front of him like a sword through flesh) was safely tucked away in their latest extravagant waste of hardworking peasant's money. Ah, yes. That rumour. Riff Raff smiled sinisterly at the cowering nonentity before him. If the rumour were true – which Riff Raff wasn't suggesting it was – then that would mean that Riff Raff wasn't reaching for his wallet. Oh no. For concealed within his breast pocket was the _real _laser. The one that he had purposely obstructed from the Old Queen's attendants when he returned from Earth _sans _the prodigal son. The one with which he intended to slay the rest of those greasy pigs, to put an end to their oily ecstasy, to scrub the planet clean of their diseased lives.

Of course, rumours are never to be trusted.

Riff Raff plucked two shiny purple coins from his wallet and slid them over to the relieved teen in return for four tickets to _The Fabulous Friends of Franklin N "Frankie-Poo" Furter Present **The Natural His Story Museum**_.

"C'mon!" Name Tag, his youngest child and only daughter tugged on his leather thong agitatedly, "Hurry up! We'll miss the one o'clock runway show!" she whinged.

Trash, the eldest and only son, made a small 'pfft' noise and scoffed, "The runway's for girls!" he readjusted his thigh-high pink leather boots before continuing, "I want to see the _Flaming Furter_!" his angelic blue eyes took on a more demonic glint as a covetous grin spread across his pale face, "Just imagine… all that power… all that… possibility…" he trailed off dreamily.

"_Daaaaad! _Trash is scaring me!" Name Tag's lip wobbled as she clung to her father's fishnet encased leg in fear.

Riff Raff smiled and ruffled Trash's hair playfully, "Your mother used to always say the exact same thing whenever I thought of the Transit Beam…," he sighed happily, a nostalgic smile tugging on his lips, "Speaking of which, where is she? She must have powdered her nose until it's an extra inch thicker by now!"

"Sorry, sorry!" a delightfully familiar voice called out from behind the group, "So sorry!" she added as she caught up with her impatient family, "They have those new signs over the toilets – took me ages to figure out which one was which!" she panted a little, having ran from the opposite side of the building, "I keep forgetting that I'm no longer a domestic," she smiled bashfully, "Couldn't remember the symbol for 'Wife of Decorated Military General' kept on getting it mixed up with 'Wife of Inebriated Suitcase Salesman'," she tucked an escaped strand of red frizz behind her ear and readjusted her slip, "That's one thing those Earthling's got right: just two signs for the lav's, just plain old _Men _or _Women _without all this complicated caste-type ranking piffle!" she griped as her kids rolled their eyes and sped ahead towards the entrance. They hated it when their mother went on about her Earth days.

"Nostalgic, my dear?" Riff Raff linked arms with his sister/wife and followed the impatient scamps at a much more leisurely pace.

His beloved sibling sighed heavily and leaned her head on his awaiting shoulder, "More than you'll ever know," she whispered, "And I doubt this museum will help – it will be like watching a movie based on the events that went on that fateful night! Or worse, a musical!" she added, glancing at a sign informing them of the time of the _Chantilly Stockings _live performance of 'Sweet Transvestite' complete with several Frank doppelgangers.

"It's alright, my sweet," Riff Raff purred in a serene voice, "Don't fret your pretty head about it. If you cry, I shall calmly explain that seeing the displays brought back painful memories of Frank's _unfortunate _demise and that it simply got too much for you. If you laugh, I shall calmly explain that you have just remembered a particularly hilarious anecdote about the young prince and proceed to tell them one of my many fabricated stories of light-hearted jovially, in which Frank is a kind, good humoured little imp and we are his loyal but dim-witted partners in crime. And, of course, if you faint, then I shall calmly blame it on your passenger," he stroked her swollen belly tenderly, "And call for a doctor immediately."

Magenta chuckled and swatted him playfully, "And what if _you_ are the one to faint, dear brother? What then?"

Riff Raff shrugged, "Tell them that the rumours **are **true, I've just shot myself with the **real **_Flaming Furter_, I **did **kill Frank and that after seeing the totally necessary and modestly tasteful exhibit dedicated to Frank's toenail clippings, I became unable to live with the knowledge that I'd robbed Transsexual of it's most prominently promiscuous prince and decided to end it all." He said calmly, winking at Magenta.

"You really think you're funny, don't you?" she smirked and gently bumped him with her bump.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious," Riff Raff said darkly, pulling a face to show he was just teasing.

Magenta shook her head in defeat, "I never can tell with you Riff Raff Vitus." She muttered as they strolled along the plum carpet towards their fidgeting offspring who were taking turns at peeking through the keyhole into the museum.

"Funny seeing them behave this way over a _museum_," Magenta remarked as Riff Raff produced their tickets.

"It is _so _not your average museum," Trash explained with the condescending-ness and snark only a ten-year-old could pull off, "It's like _the _place to be," he added, applying more _Sugar Babe _lip-gloss until Magenta could see her reflection in his sparkly lips.

"I just wanna see Prince Frank's clothes!" burst out Name Tag suddenly as she impatiently watched Riff Raff insert each ticket through the letterbox and type something into the doorknob-keypad.

Magenta softened and heaved her daughter up and cuddled her to her chest, "Don't worry, precious, they're actually rather tacky and sluttish."

"Like Trash?" Name Tag asked curiously.

"Hey! You did _not _just say that!" Trash fumed, whipping out a communicator and furiously performing the Transylvanian equivalent of texting.

"Ok, here we go," Riff Raff prodded the final key with a flourish and slowly turned the doorknob, grinning at the tortured expressions on his children's faces as he decreased his speed.

"_Daaaaaaaad_!"

"Ok, ok," he said, yanking the door open at lightening speed.

"Wooooooooooaahhhhhhh!" the children breathed, totally awestruck. Riff Raff felt Magenta wobble a bit and clutch at his arm tightly as Name Tag slid to the ground and stood next to her entranced brother.

"_Riff_!" Magenta whispered the panic-filled word straight into his ear, "It's… it's…"

"It's exactly as you described it!" Trash whooped, the spell broken, he grabbed the red velvet barrier, making the _Please Patiently Wait Here for a Moment or Two _sign wobble precariously.

"That is because," Riff Raff tried to keep his voice steady, "This is the very building in which we travelled to Earth and served the late prince. I can't believe I didn't realise sooner," he added in a furious whisper, "Those cheap bastards, couldn't spring for a replica, _oh no_, of course not, they just use the real thing!" he hissed hurriedly to Magenta as they watched another family prod the cobweb encrusted skeleton that hung around inside the coffin/clock.

"_Riff_!" Magenta dug her nails deeper into his arm, "_Look_!" she pointed to a dark mass on the staircase banister.

As the family in front of them inspected it, the bundle suddenly jolted upwards – revealing itself to be an actress wearing a curly red wig, a French maid outfit and ruby red lipstick.

"_You're _lucky. _He's_ lucky. _I'm_ lucky. _WE'RE **ALL** LUCKY_!" she cried, sliding down the banister and tossing a feather duster at an other actor, who was dressed as a younger, hunchbacked Riff Raff – complete with tight butler uniform and fake hump.

"It's astounding, time is fleeting, madness takes its toll..."

"Good Lord," Riff Raff muttered and face palmed as he watched the cheesy re-enactment.

Luckily the torture ended soon as the jiving family were led into the packed ballroom and the doors were slammed shut, forcing the hallway into an uncomfortable silence.

"Wow, that was –" Trash was unexpectedly cut off by a sullen Riff Raff double who popped up from behind them.

"Hello," he greeted nasally before his hooded eyes took in his latest customers.

"Oh-oh-oh oh my!" his eyes bulged as he took a step backwards, "You're them!" he cried, startling another Magenta-look-alike who had taken her place on the banister – waiting for them to inspect her.

Riff Raff rolled his eyes, "Actually I believe your next line is 'You're wet'," he said in an exaggerated parody of his own voice.

The actor spluttered for a second before adjust his god-awful bald-cap and continuing, "Err, yes, ahem," he cleared his throat and tried to copy Riff's spoof, "You're wet," he drawled, producing a water pistol and spritzing them with it.

"Hey!" Trash steamed, "You wrecked my make-up you big lug!" quick as a flash he had his compact out and began smothering powder all over his face whilst simultaneously shooting death-glares at the stumped actor.

"Ah, well, sorry about that, miss," he stammered.

"_Miss_?" shrieked Trash, outraged – luckily the actor was spared as a loud shriek was heard from the Magenta wannabe.

"Get away, you little brat!" she snapped at Name Tag who had slipped under the red rope and toddled over to the banister.

"Well excuse me," she sniffed huffily, "It's just that, considering your position on the banister, I thought you might like to feel less… vulnerable."

"What did you do?" Magenta whispered as she hurried over to scoop her daughter away from the glaring mimic.

Name Tag shrugged, "I just offered her my spare pair of knickers," she dropped her voice and leaned closer, "She's not wearing any!"

"Please, madam, I'm going have to ask you not to wander off!" fake-Riff eyed her bump warily and fluttered his hands around nervously muttering something about insurance paperwork and a new carpet.

"Wander off?" Trash commented to Riff Raff, "She only took two bloody steps!"

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><p><strong>I wanted to claw my way into the computer whilst writing this. Anyway, writing the last chapter for Midnight Snack just now - then I'll get to work on Grow Old. See what happens when my plans for the day are ruined? Enjoy this while it lasts.<strong>


	2. Every Man Has But One Destiny

**Make way! Super short filler coming through! Because there was no way they were going to come quietly ;P**

**Also, over-dose of wish fulfilment in here - so much fun to write though *sigh***

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><p>"Wow! That's <em>so <em>cool! Dad! Dad! Can I get it? _Pleeeeeeeeeease_? I promise I'll feed it every day! Please?" Trash hopped up and down impatiently, clutching a small, squirming replica of a familiar bronzed, blonde creation.

"That's what you said about that Dr. Scott replica – and we all know how well that worked out," Riff Raff snapped moodily, crouched down behind a corset display in an attempt to escape from his doppelganger, who was keeping up a never-ending stream of questions, compliments and invitations to meet his family.

Trash bit his lip and winced before re-doubling his efforts, "But this will be different, I swear! I'm more mature now! pretty please?"

"Magenta…!" Riff Raff shot her an exasperated look before diving behind a copy of Frank's throne, just in time as well, as the actor materialised next to the Frank-mannequin, looking around eagerly.

"Wouldn't you prefer a Magenta toy?" she tried hopefully, scooping up a preening miniature version of herself and thrusting it towards her son.

He pulled a face, "Er, no offence mum, but Magenta dolls are _so _last year. Rocky's where it's at!" he squeezed the mini-Rocky tighter, oblivious to its gasps and blue face.

Magenta sighed and turned to her daughter who was standing awkwardly by the tap shoes, shooting anxious glances at her _Columbia-Clock _watch.

"How about you, sweetie?" she waved the complaining Magenta doll in her face, "Don't you think she's kind of cute?"

"Mum," she said solemnly, "When are we getting back to the tour? We're going to miss the runway show!"

Magenta paled, as soon as she and Riff had realised what was going on they had hurriedly snatched their offspring and threw them into the gift shop, hoping to distract them until closing time – unfortunately, whilst Fake-Magenta had seemed happy to be shot of them, Fake-Riff had slid after them, clinging to Riff like a limpet and badgering him about his performance, asking for tips and autographs, until Riff had created a diversion by knocking over a bin full of fishnets and scarpered.

The diversionary tactics seemed to be working well for Trash, who had eagerly shut-up after having a handful of midnight blue notes and purple coins thrown at him, and had spent the last half an hour frittering away his cash on Frank-wigs, golden tailcoats, nerd glasses, easy-learn saxophones and whatever else caught his eye. But Name Tag had spent the whole time waiting stubbornly near the exit, shooting anguished looks at her mother and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Don't worry, honey," Magenta attempted to smile, "We won't miss it, but, I mean, look at all that pretty nail-polish! Ooh, you like pink!" she grabbed a random bottle and studied it as if her life depended on it, "And it's odour-less! Isn't that nice?"

"Mum."

Magenta avoided eye contact with her stony daughter and continued to inspect and exclaim over various pieces of tat.

"Come on, mum!" Trash appeared at her side, Rocky-less and glum, "Let's get out of here."

"Not without your father!" she cried desperately, scanning the shop, hoping that Riff would remain hidden.

"Don't worry kids!" Fake-Riff popped up from behind a shelf of spare tyres, "I've got him right here!" he beamed and hopped over to them, dragging the reluctant Riff behind him.

"Yay!" the kids whooped, high-fived and sprinted back out to the hall.

"Come on then," Fake-Riff grinned, oblivious to the death-glares being aimed at him, "Don't want to keep the kiddies waiting, do we?" and he skipped out after the children.

"Riff…!" Magenta clutched her husband's arm and silently begged him for a decent excuse.

"Quick! Pretend you're in labour!" he said, half-serious.

"Oh no," she said sternly, "That's how we had Trash, two weeks early, right in the middle of that wedding rehearsal you wanted to get out of, remember? Why don't I just say I've got a headache or something?"

"Are you kidding? Do you actually think that the kids will let you get away with that?" Riff spluttered, "We'll have to endure 'When we going back to museum?' non-stop for months!" he groaned and massaged his temple, "It's best to get it over and done with, face our demons, you know? It won't be too bad…"

"But –"

"If we don't do it today, then we'll be dragged back tomorrow," he said sharply, "Just grin and bear it, dear."

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><p><strong>Re-read all the HP books after DH Part 2, which is where the animated dolls come from.<strong>

**I made a few changes; the 'Furter Firer' is now the 'Flaming Furter' - which sounds like a tacky cocktail, I know - and 'The Museum of Un-Modern Frankie-Poo' is now *deep breath* 'The Fabulous Friends of Franklin N "Frankie Poo" Furter Present The Natural His Story Museum' *exhale* I'm rueing the day I wrote that chapter of Mother Earth whilst watching The Mikado, believe you me -_- **

**Fun fact: I'm deciding the name for the chapters by randomly flicking through the Godfather and making it whatever quote I land on from now on (although the first chapter I got from the movie)**

**Oh well, it seems I only update this fic when there's torrential rain and my plans for the day require sunshine... which doesn't explain why there are so few updates...**


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